


strictly business

by kirargent



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Moving In Together, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:46:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5006992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirargent/pseuds/kirargent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia's got the funky herbs Deaton said would fix the place up if burned at the appropriate compass points around the apartment, and Kira and Malia... get to distract the realtor. By pretending to be a couple interested in renting their first apartment together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	strictly business

**Author's Note:**

> For [tw femslash fic rec's writing week](http://twfemslashficrec.tumblr.com/post/129817697799) and for the "moving in together" space on my [tw femslash bingo card](http://kirargent.tumblr.com/post/125020014916/btw-heres-my-tw-femslash-bingo-card-i-have-some) :)

This, Kira tells herself, is strictly business. Dangerous, monster-related, sneaky business, to be fair, but still business. And because it's business and business only, when Malia slides an arm around her waist, casual and familiar, Kira's mind is on their task, and not at all on how she can feel how warm Malia's skin is through her thin shirt, or on how easy it is to feel Malia's obvious strength as her forearm flexes to pull Kira against the lean warmth of her side.

“You said it's a two-bath?” Malia prompts the realtor, her lips curving in a smile that Kira, knowing Malia as she does, can peg as fake by its general lack of threat or teeth. The realtor buys it, though.

“Yup!” she says, heels clicking as she moves across the barren apartment floor. “One off the living room—” she points back in the direction from which they'd come “—and one through the master. This way, if you'll follow me...”

Casting a glance backwards as Malia guides her after the realtor, Kira sees Lydia slip through the front door of the apartment, Deaton's paper bag clutched in one fist. A low jolt of adrenaline speeds through Kira's veins. _Okay_ , she thinks. This is what they're here for.

They only discovered the situation by coincidence: a client of Deaton's told a story about a friend of a friend moving because of weird shit going down in their apartment suite, and then Deaton, being Deaton, tracked down the apartment and diagnosed it with chronic “lingering spirit” syndrome. Which sounded a little on the ridiculous side, to Kira, but they trust Deaton, and besides, Lydia confirmed that she felt something off about the place, so. Here they are. Lydia's got the funky herbs Deaton said would fix the place up if burned at the appropriate compass points around the apartment, and Kira and Malia... get to distract the realtor. By pretending to be a couple interested in renting their first apartment together.

Malia tips her head so that it rests against Kira's as she feigns interest in the realtor's pitch.

Business. Kira ignores the happy tingle in the pit of her stomach.

The bedroom, where they've stopped, is small but bright; watery yellow mid-morning light spills through tall, wide windows on the left wall. Malia's hair would look unbearably pretty in this light, Kira thinks, messy on a white pillow as she blinks awake.

Business. Kira jerks her imagination away from Malia's sleepy morning face.

“What do you think, honey?” Malia asks, lips against Kira's hair.

 _I think I'd rather die than pretend to be dating the girl I'm in love with_ , Kira thinks. “It's pretty,” she says. She twists in the curve of Malia's arm to look up at her not-girlfriend, smiling faintly. “It'd be a nice place to wake up together,” she allows herself to say honestly. Malia's eyes track over Kira's features, slow and curious.

“Yeah,” she says finally, corners of her mouth lifting. “It would.” She smiles at the realtor and asks another question, stalling as smooth as silk. Kira doesn't process what it is Malia's just asked; her nose itches with a strange, murky-sharp smell, and she's too busy frantically scanning the realtor for signs that she's noticed the smell of burning herbs in the next room to pay attention to the conversation.

Thankfully, the realtor gives no indication that she senses anything out of the ordinary, and they move from the bedroom into the small connected bathroom. There's a shower and a single sink; the floor is pale blue tile. Mostly, Kira notices not the room, but the fact that Malia's arm has left her waist.

Business. She pretends she doesn't miss Malia's touch the second it's gone.

They discuss the perks of the bathroom. Kira does her best not to think about how nice it'd be to stumble into that shower with Malia at the end of the day. The realtor asks them how they're feeling about the place, and Kira stalls some more, saying, “I think I'd like to walk around it one more time. Malia, maybe you could stay here, ask any more questions you have?”

“Sure,” Malia says. The smile she gives Kira has a little edge of its familiar sharpness.

When she reels Kira in by the hand, Kira is fully, one-hundred percent aware of the fact that Malia's just putting on a show to buy Lydia an extra few seconds; but when her palm settles against the small of Kira's back and she pulls Kira's body hard against hers, all Kira can think is: _yes_. Malia, tall freaking goddess that she is, has to bend down to skim her lips ightly, lightly, lightly over Kira's. It's all Kira can do not to sigh and melt into Malia's grip.

She takes a few jerky steps backward when Malia releases her, heart hammering. She forces a tight smile. “See you in a few,” she manages, and then bolts.

Lydia seems to have finished, nowhere in sight. _Thank god_ , Kira thinks, speed-walking through the strangely empty rooms of the unoccupied apartment. That means they can get the hell out of here.

She crashes into Lydia rounding the corner into the tiny entry hall. Lydia, rolling her eyes, probably only refrains from berating Kira because they can't afford to make too much noise. “Go get Malia,” she whispers, gesturing. “I'll wait in the car.”

Kira nods rapidly. Lydia twists the knob and eases the front door open so slowly that it hurts Kira to watch; she turns back to retrieve her pretend girlfriend.

 _I hate this_ , Kira thinks, walking through the bedroom in which she can now picture herself and Malia waking up with feet tangled in the sheets and each other's legs. _I hate this apartment and I hate the stupid lingering spirit and I hate my life_.

She rejoins Malia, and they tell the realtor that they'll definitely think the apartment over seriously, which is obviously a lie, and then they're out of that awkward place.

“Thank goodness that's over,” Kira says on an exhale, leaning back against the wall of the elevator. They're alone now, headed back to Lydia's car.

Malia looks at her, brows slanted. “Why?” she asks.

Kira falters. “Uh.” She runs a hand through her hair. “Because it was stressful?” she offers. “I spent the whole time worrying we'd get caught; didn't you?”

Malia's looking at her way, way too intently for Kira's comfort. Her arms are loosely crossed, her head cocked. Slowly, as if considering the idea, she says, “Worrying we'd get caught de-haunting the apartment, or worrying you'd get caught making it too obvious that you like me?”

Kira's pretty sure she can feel her heart shudder to a stop. “Wha—What?” she splutters. “Where'd—How did—What makes you think I like you?”

Malia's lips curl up in a slow, slow grin, the familiar one that's all predator. “I can hear your heartbeat, dumbass. I know when you're lying.”

Now Kira's heart is pounding, not stalled. “So?”

“So-o,” Malia drawls, “you weren't lying when you said you'd like to wake up in bed next to me.”

Kira's knees feel wobbly.

“So, you like me, right?”

“Uhm,” Kira says, because, uh, _what the hell is she_ supposed _to say?_

Malia takes a step closer. The elevator judders to a stop and dings as the door opens, but Malia's standing between Kira and the exit, and she doesn't move to leave. “Right?” she repeats.

Fear surges in Kira's throat. Malia looks tall and terrifying and powerful, and Kira feels tiny. “Are you—mad?” she forces out. “Look, this doesn't have to change anything. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I just—”

“Like me. You just like me.” Malia's still smiling.

“Yeah,” Kira squeaks. Her cheeks feel hot. “Um. I'm sorry.”

Malia's eyes flash a quick blue, and the elevator doors slide shut again behind her, and Kira just has time to think _I'm about to die_ before Malia says, “Don't be,” and pulls her forward into a real kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> [also on tumblr](http://kirargent.tumblr.com/post/131247817301/strictly-business-maliakira-13k-for)


End file.
